


Human-Varl Alliance, Or, the Wisdom of Being Naked in a Blizzard

by orphan_account



Category: The Banner Saga, The Banner Saga 2
Genre: M/M, Nudism, Other, Tattoos, Varl Anatomy is Interesting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-02
Updated: 2016-05-02
Packaged: 2018-06-05 23:13:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6727312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Vognir is dead, which means that Hakon has to lead the Varl half of the alliance with Men. Ludin has a proposal.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written for blackwallshairytits on tumblr.
> 
> There is apparently no fandom for this series, which is irritating. So this is my opening shot.
> 
> Unbetaed, but I have done my best to catch everything. If you see anything that should be corrected, please let me know.

The water isn't cold, though Hakon could feel goosebumps crawl up his legs. Across the not-shallow-enough stream, Yrsa sat on a rock with a stone cold look on her face. She shook her head as he approached. "Not now."  
  
"Sorry." He's not really sorry though. Ludin's head pokes up behind the rock Yrsa is guarding. His hair is tied back and his skin from his mouth down is wet. "You have to come back, it's dangerous out here."  
  
Ludin says nothing to him though. Hasn't said anything since Grofheim, at least not to him. Ludin tugs Yrsa's hood gently and she gracefully stands... and jumps into the stream with a hearty splash, drenching Hakon. Hakon moves to sit on the rock while Yrsa moves to another rock, still vigilant.  
  
Ludin is completely naked, though that isn't a surprise. The surprise is the beginnings of complex tattoo in red starting between his shoulders and trailing off past his shoulder blades. Hakon reaches out and touches it gently. Ludin still says nothing, though his already drooping eyelids droop even further.  
  
"You'll get sick," Hakon says, though Ludin puts a finger to his lips. He watches Ludin pour water over his shoulders again. From deep in the woods Bersi emerges, holding a basket full of something, and looks between Hakon and Ludin.

"Problem?"  
  
"No, don't know why you're talking to him now." Bersi looked to Ludin again. "Lost his voice."  
  
Well, then maybe Hakon didn't feel as special. "Could you tell him you can't protect him from getting sick?"  
  
"He won't get sick." With that, Bersi takes his basket full of whatever back to the camp. Ludin finally stands and motions for the large cloth Hakon happens to be sitting on. He wraps himself and picks up his bundle of clothes and his spear and, with more grace than a dancer, walks across a "bridge" made of small, worn stones. Yrsa follows after, splashing as much as she can.  
  
For lack of anything else to do, Hakon follows the prince back to the camp, preferably to dry his legs by one of the fires or to his own tent to get some sort of sleep, though Yrsa points towards the prince's.

* * *

Ludin is a nudist, he decides. The prince sits with the cloth pooled around his waist, at a small desk filled with papers and scrolls, some covered in candle wax, and all of them covered in a messy, tiny scrawl. "Did you want something?"  
  
"Thank you." Ludin finally croaks. "For Ridgehorn."  
  
For what, not having him tied up? For not getting him killed? But Ludin says nothing else.  
  
The following day, they finally see Einartoft in the distance. The imposing mountain and the even more imposing bridge both beckon and repell him. What was he supposed to say about Vognir? What the hell was he supposed to do about Ludin?  
  
When they set up camp that evening, Yrsa brought Hakon a human sized bowl of pottage. "He'll talk."  
  
Hakon takes the bowl, abandons his empty one and, with a grunt, manages to get up and moving. There were too many damn mini-mountain sized hills. Even for a "young" guy like him.  
  
Ludin is definitely a nudist, though the cloth is wrapped partially around his shoulder this time and his hair is down like always. "You walk around naked in your castle too?"  
  
"I assume you jest." Ludin doesn't glower exactly. He takes the bowl without getting up and Hakon sits on the bed roll next to him. The cloth slips off his shoulders, highlighting the curve of his neck. He eats delicately, almost but not quite like a bird, or, as Hakon images, a lady of polite society. He thinks he's met one of those once.  
  
"If you aren't going to say any--" Ludin has very interesting eyes, though they seem to naturally droop rather than appear to be an affect. He finishes his pottage, clearly this bird eats quickly, and sets his bowl on a precarious stack of scrolls.  
  
"I asked Bersi something. He gave me a rather interesting answer." He spoke quietly. Had his voice always been that smokey? "I asked him if Varl ever took wives."  
  
"And?" He isn't sure where this is going and he's not sure he particularly likes that.  
  
"He says they don't, though a few may get together to raise Varl foundlings." Ludin rubs at an old scar on his arm. It's only notable for being a burn scar among otherwise cut scars. "I asked him if Varl had sex."  
  
Hakon doesn't choke, not exactly.  
  
"He says you all do... of a sort. He described it." Despite the smokiness of his voice, he is clinical, never changing from the dull irritation his voice usually carries. "I have a proposal for you."  
  
"What?" He finally asks, dread placing heavy hands on his shoulder.  
  
"If we survive... I would like to wed you. Two kings ruling an alliance..." Ludin's voice finally loses the irritation so common in his voice and trails off into a soft uncertainty. "We could raise foundlings..."  
  
"Why me? I'm only the kendr."  
  
"I--" Ludin says nothing else, but makes a pained face. He sticks a long finger in his mouth and pulls it out, inspecting it.  
  
"Bite your tongue?" Hakon chuckles. The prince sticks his tongue out, a black tattoo decorates it and although there is no blood, the tip looks slightly red. Hakon catches his jaw gently and Ludin allows him to exam the art. "When did you get this?"  
  
Ludin leans out of his grip. "Just before I left."  
  
"I suppose that's why you were in such a mood." Ludin says nothing.  
  
"I... respect you. I could probably come to love you." He watches Hakon through his heavy eyes. Hakon stares at him until Ludin looks away.  
  
"I'll think about it." He watches Ludin carefully maneuver an ink pot away from the teetering bowl.  
  
"You may share my bed this evening." Hakon raises an eyebrow.  
  
"Why not mine? Or do you not like getting dressed?" He replies. Ludin fully removes the cloth. He looks average in size, from what Hakon has seen of humans. His thin frame hid carefully grown muscles, the same as most spear men. His hips and thighs and butt were a bit more like a woman's though, as far as he could tell, but he otherwise seemed... average.  
  
There are small blue designs on his calves though, and green ones on his forearms. That... probably wasn't normal, at least not to the extent that someone seemed to want to decorate Ludin. "Mine is colder."  
  
Hakon sighs and thinks for a very long moment. Every now and again, a draft seems intent on worming its way into the tent, through to his skin, it certainly feels as though Ludin's tent is warmer, with rugs and skins keeping the wind at bay. More of a yurt than a tent.  
  
Ludin shivers out of the corner of his eye and Hakon lies on his side without any grace. "I'll stay for a while. But I'd crush you if I fell asleep."  
  
Ludin says nothing and lays out beside him. Hakon covers him with a bear skin blanket and takes a moment to feel the skin of Ludin's shoulder and to briefly touch his hair before placing an arm around him. It's not tight enough to pin the prince, but Ludin tries to squeeze up against him regardless.  
  


The following day, there is nothing different around the camp, aside from Yrsa snickering whenever she sees him. Ludin is actually dressed and has a veneer of disdain painted on his face. There is no difference in the way he behaves, other than to march in the wind shadow Hakon leaves and when they stop to rest before crossing the bridge to Einartoft, he is glued to Hakon's side.  
  
Bersi says nothing about this, still carrying the basket of whatever it is, though he is keeping a closer eye on Hakon than usual.  
  
They make it to Einartoft late in the evening, because a few of his men get sick from vertigo and hold the caravan up. Jorundr will not see them until the morning and when Hakon goes to get some much needed rest, he sees Bersi and Yrsa standing outside his door. He goes in without a word.  
  
Ludin... is not naked. Yet. "You'll need sleep."  
  
"I will." He remains standing, casually flexing his fingers on the shaft of his spear. "Have you thought about what I asked?"  
  
"It's only been a day." He replies with a heavy sigh. He is too tired for this and so he sits on his bed and takes off his boot with thunderous thuds.  
  
"I." Ludin clears his throat. It is very strange that they are talking about this while Ludin is dressed. "I don't have the luxury of time. I... require an answer, there is a matter of timing."  
  
"In other words, you have to know what to tell Jorundr?" He crosses his arms and Ludin stares at him, looking, once again, like Hakon had just punched himself in the face.  
  
"Aside from that, there are other things. But yes. That is the most pressing."  
  
"Where are you sleeping?" Hakon asks him instead. Ludin flexes his fingers again.  
  
"Here." He speaks with some finality. Hakon watches him for a long moment.  
  
"All right. Assuming I accept, then what?" Ludin looks away, but looks back at him. He places his spear against the wall and gets down on his knees before Hakon. But he says nothing. His gaze is intense, less that of looking at a bug and more of looking at a map.  
  
"Days of feasts and celebrations we won't get to have. My neck would be done, probably. Your hands might be." Ludin replies, sticking his tongue out to show Hakon what he meant. "Treaties would be formalized and..."  
  
He trailed off and looked away. "What about children?"  
  
"My grandfather was a war foundling." Ludin places his forehead against the floor. "It's too warm in here."  
  
This must have been the draftiest room in the entire hall. Even with an ember fire burning in the fireplace, it was still cold enough to give him goosebumps. "Is that why you don't wear clothes?"  
  
Ludin moves to stand in a single graceful motion, marred, only slightly, by a small popping sound from his left knee. He dusts off his forehead and straightens his hair. His neutral face has returned. "May I have your answer?"  
  
A question. Not an order. How strange. Hakon can see the benefit of it. It's a more formal version than what a Varl would use just to raise a foundling or two together. Not that he'd ever done that. He had never had the urge, not really.  
  
"I'll go along with it." He spoke. Ludin turned on his heel and gracefully stalked to the door, yanking it open with some difficulty.  
  
Hakon couldn't hear what he said to his two guards, but he returned with the basket full of something... and his cloth. Bersi shut the door gently behind him.  
  
Hakon peeked into the basket and found it filled with red, blue, white, and yellow wildflowers, dried, but still very colorful. Ludin began to undress and Hakon watched him. "You aren't cold?"  
  
"Never." Came the quiet reply. Ludin carefully folded his clothes, and almost as an afterthought, straightened Hakon's boots as well. "Aren't you?"  
  
"Never." Still, Hakon carefully picked Ludin up and placed him on the bear skin rug next to the fireplace. Ludin made a motion with his hand. He wanted his cloth. "I'll cover you tonight."  
  
The evening is not long, though he is not certain when he falls asleep. In the morning, early as it may or may not be, Hakon wakes to Ludin calmly combing through his hair, his own hair perfect... And he was dressed. "I didn't crush you?"  
  
Ludin doesn't grace him with an answer. "Your man, Mogr, claims you can meet with Jorundr today, but you should take stock of the situation first."  
  
Hakon sits up and Ludin stands and puts his boots on. "Leaving so soon?"  
  
Ludin says nothing, though he bows gracefully. He picks up his spear as he leaves, though Hakon opens the door for him. He hears Yrsa's cackle before he can close the door.  
  


* * *

The day after that, he finally sees Jorundr, who had been bedridden since arriving, sitting among his war cabinet in the great hall. "Hakon. And where is Vognir?"  
  
"Dead." He says, and recounts to the best of his abilities what happened. He presents Eyvind and then... Ludin. Ludin says and does all the right things, though the irritation and tension he always seems to feel remains firmly locked in place. Jorundr, if he notices, doesn't react.  
  
Ludin doesn't bring the matter of his proposal up. Hakon is grateful, though only because this wasn't the time. They are thrown into the meeting without a moment to understand, though Ludin asks careful questions and remains tightly by his side. Hakon doesn't have to ask anything, he's been around long enough to understand anyway.  
  
"I'm not going to Arberrang, not now." He doesn't turn to Jorundr directly, but before he gets a reply they are joined by a blond Varl with swollen looking horns and a human with some gray in his hair.  
  
"This must be hell." One of the older Varl murmurs to another behind Hakon. The name Yngvar floats around the hall.The human by his side stays close to him too.  
  


* * *

Two days out from Einartoft and he witnesses the bridge collapse. He doesn't quite feel sadness, more of a low burning anger, but it passes faster than he would like to think it should. Ludin, wisely, says nothing. But from that night on, the prince stays in Hakon's tent, carefully weaving a crown of flowers that would fit a Varl.  
  
His fingers, like the rest of him, are graceful. "What is that for?"  
  
"A Setterlund festival. Engaged and married people wear them for three days." He replies without taking his eyes from his work, though Hakon has seen him weave, write, and even fight without looking at what he was doing. "It's... one of the rare things we celebrate in Arberrang that isn't from the area."  
  
He says nothing else, and Hakon is somewhat grateful. It has become strange to talk to Ludin while he was wearing clothes. Ludin, in fact, has not undressed in front of him since they left Einartoft. Hakon slips a hand under Ludin's shirt and finds no undershirt. "You'll get sick."  
  
Ludin shivers and leans back against his hand. Hakon gathers him up into his lap and Ludin finally undresses.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Fuck Rugga.

Boersguard was a wash, Hakon is not fond of the Ravens, likes Rugga even less, and wishes that Vognir was still around. He watches over Ludin, who watches Rook shepherd his clan to the boats, and watches Yng--Iver shepherd Rook in turn.  
  
Hakon isn't fond of boats, but he doesn't hate them, especially when he doesn't have to put up with Rugga, who was on a boat somewhere towards the back. Hopefully a leaky one. Still, the sooner they were in Ormsdalr the better.  
  
"You've been quiet." He says on a long, still "night". Rook, further down the longship, is surrounded by Iv--Yngvar and Hakon has copied him, holding Ludin close.  
  
"I've been watching him." He points his chin at Rook. He speaks quietly. His stubble has gotten longer and scratches against Hakon's bare arm. It's not a bad look for him, Hakon thinks. It makes him look just a bit more mature. Ludin says nothing else. That is another thing. Ludin rarely says things unprompted.  
  
Even when it seems otherwise.  
  
They stop at a small village and Hakon finds himself tasked with counting chickens while the villagers round up their belongings. Ludin is nowhere to be found, though since there is nothing on fire, he's likely safe but...  
  
They don't stop again until Rugga decides he wants to stop. He watches the confrontation carefully and tenses at the threat. Ludin says nothing about it afterwards, though he bundles up in a spare cloak as if trying to distance his skin from the former mayor.  
  


* * *

"What do you mean there isn't a bridge?" Ludin asks Rook, rather calmly for someone who almost went over the edge of a waterfall. Although it was perhaps because he was talking to Rook and not to the poor fighter that had tried to help him earlier. Though even that had lacked the kind of bite he would've expected from the prince earlier in their journey.  
  
"The chasm is recent." Hakon is more interested in the hand on Rook's shoulder than Rook's reply. Maybe he was turning into a gossip in his old age. Like Ubin.  
  
"And where are the mighty Dredge that should be following us?" Rugga swaggers over to them and Ludin speaks before anyone else.  
  
"I'm certain that is what our archers are watching now. Though I suppose your must be having difficulty with no walls to stare at." Ludin's face doesn't change and there is no edge in his voice. He has simply returned to being Ludin. Though he has a point, Rook and Oddleif and the other archers were clearly tracking something.  
  
"I'm sorry, but if someone could guard us while Eyvind concentrates." Juno interrupts. Hakon decides to make himself useful and is not surprised to find Ludin by his side again.  
  
"I've been thinking that it's been much too warm lately." Ludin speaks casually. Hakon barks a laugh. Behind him and a bit to the left Oddleif strings her bow. A little farther along the line, past Mogr and Yng--Iver, Rook does the same, though his axe is also out of his belt, just in case.  
  
"Oh, I thought you were getting sick, not going to sit in anymore streams?" Ludin's lips twitch once. When the Dredge appear, he takes off like a flash, following Rook and Oddleif's killing arrows. His heart doesn't clench or anything like that, but he very carefully targets the ones Ludin can't quite get.  
  


* * *

It's not until well after Ormsdalr that he can stop and think. Without the Ravens causing extra anxiety, the caravan calms down, which calms Rook to some degree, which calms Iver, which calms him and his calmness seems to wash over Ludin.  
  
Every night, since Olmsdalr, Ludin has stripped more and more each evening until he finally seemed to have returned to himself. Hakon still does not appreciate that it is harder to talk to Ludin with his clothes on than off. Shouldn't it have been the other way around?  
  
So in the evening, for a given value, he lets Ludin write a bit before they sleep. But this night is not a good one for sleep. Hakon has been thinking, though he doesn't like it much, he figures he should keep doing it. He waits until Ludin has settle against him and pets his heavy hand down Ludin's back. "What do these mean?"  
  
"They don't." Ludin's voice is muffled against the bear skin blanket. "They're drawn in the shape of visions the tattooist has."  
  
"The color too?" He rubs a thumb on Ludin's left arm. His hands are too large and make his fiance look much smaller than he probably.  
  
"Green on the arms for prosperous fields. Red on the back to carry the nation through war. Blue on the legs to stride over the seas... it meant more when exploration and raids were more common." He sighs against Hakon's skin and shivers like even the smallest of wind bothered him.  
  
"And black?" Ludin says nothing.  
  


* * *

In the morning, for a given value, he's woken to some fussing and finds Yrsa sitting in the tent next to Ludin, who was writing something furiously. He was still naked, though the cloth he continued to carry covered him for modesty's sake. Hakon stands, having not undressed the night before, and steps into the daylight, axe in hand.  
  
Rugga. Of course it was Rugga. "What now?"  
  
"My apologies, majesty." He smirks. "I thought this was the prince's tent."  
  
Whatever he might have suspected may or may not have been confirmed when Ludin stepped into the open, looking as right and proper as always. "Was there something you required?"  
  
"I was just concerned you were getting enough rest." He smirked again. "After all, I'm certain that being so far from home must be trying on you."  
  
"And do you miss your home?" Ludin picks at a bit of bear hair stuck to Hakon's shirt.  
  
"Certainly." Rugga replies, if possible his smirk getting wider and higher.  
  
"Then I'm certain someone in the caravan can find or build a bed for you to hide under." He returned his gaze to Rugga and Hakon had to fight a smile. "I'm certain it would be just like home for you."  
  
Ludin turns on his heel, with Yrsa following after. Rugga's face froze in a parody of a sneer. Hakon patted him on the shoulder once, nearly knocking him over, and went off to find Mogr.  
  


"If we go any farther south we'll run into something just as bad as the Dredge." Ubin points out. The only difference between this meeting and the others they'd had at every camp was that Iver was carrying Rook, who had injured his ankle. A little farther behind them Ludin was pointedly ignoring the mad spearman that had shown up.  
  
"Well, I'd rather we dealt with Kragsmen than stay north and just barely keep ahead of the Dredge." Hakon spoke after a few moments. Rook nodded as well. They were all a little more rested, but that was only because they weren't being chased. "Of course, if we keep going south we can just go straight around the Old Woods."  
  
"We'll go through them." Rook spoke quietly, likely because of the mothers suddenly passing them by with reeds of grass to weave. Hakon took a look at the caravan. His Varl were getting better at socializing, the clansmen were becoming more useful. For this moment, at least, he could assume that things were going well.  
  


* * *

Things were not good. Well, they were with Ludin, but otherwise... He hated the Horseborn, not seriously enough, but he was unhappy with them. He hated the Old Woods. He hated snakes, was not fond of menders at that articular moment, but didn't hate them. He missed Iver's company, though probably not as much as Rook did.  
  
But at least Rugga wasn't there any more. Neither was Dagr, though his head and body had been disposed of fairly close to the camp.  
  
"Should've gotten Rugga too." Hakon says, in what is probably the evening. He thumps a finger on Ludin's bare hip. Lightly. But Ludin is already asleep and Hakon is pretty sure he is as well, because Vognir is sitting at the entrance of his tent and making faces at him.  
  
The caravan comes first. It's an unspoken agreement, and common sense besides. Still, he's surprised by just how much Ludin has changed.  
  
It still takes him a week to work up the courage to ask a particular question, in fact, they were almost to the last Godstone before Arberrang. "Did you hate Vognir?"  
  
Ludin stares at him for a long moment. The map look again. "No."  
  
"But you didn't like him."  
  
"No." Hakon sighs. Well, he wasn't all that surprised.  
  
"How soon did you leave after your tongue was taken care of?" He asked. There was something he felt he had to ask, but he would get there eventually.  
  
"A few hours." He wasn't even looking in Hakon's direction any more. "I couldn't speak for three days. Couldn't eat for two."  
  
Hakon can't say anything to that. It was hard to fault him in that case, though he'd still been a brat. Ludin speaks in a whispered afterthought. "I was still too stubborn though."  
  
Hakon barks a laugh to hide a grunt from climbing yet another miniature mountain. "Would you have proposed to him?"  
  
"Never." Ludin's lips thinned. "Not him. Not ever."  
  
"You sure you didn't hate him?" He doesn't mean to ask it. Ludin doesn't stumble exactly, but he does a few half steps before regaining his long stride.  
  
"No." It's barely audible to him. "He hated me."  
  
In a dream that night, he asks Vognir. Of course, he'll never know the answer, but now he knows what it would be like if a Vognir had the body of a goose.  
  


* * *

They reach the Godstone in what should have been the evening of the following day. Couples split off to go be by themselves, a few older folk keep the youngest from getting too curious. He spotted Rook alone, weaving a crown of flowers and humming a ballad Hakon vaguely remembered. He wondered if Iver knew it. He probably did.  
  
Ludin, who had been "missing" the whole day, gently took his hand and pulled him a bit too far from the caravan, in Hakon's opinion. "I think... that I will love you."  
  
"You've said that before." Hakon sits himself down on moss covered roots.  
  
"No, I said I could come to love you." Ludin was tying his hair up, something Hakon had only seen him do when he washed. "I will love you."  
  
"You don't have to convince yourself."  
  
"I'm not." He replied and began to strip, but stopped. "I never asked if you could."  
  
"I can." He could. He could see it. Ludin had a good head on his shoulders. He was learning and growing. He... he was lovable in the way that not a single person could explain, which was the way love probably always went. "I'll love you."  
  
Ludin leans in, having to place himself on Hakon's knee to do so, and pauses. "I can't kiss you."  
  
"Why's that?" He lowers his voice.  
  
"I'm certain you'd kiss like a yox." Hakon's laugh bounced through the trees.  
  
"I'll help you undress." Ludin shook his head and instead pulled away to dress again, before changing his mind and stripping. Hakon took his own shirt off. Since there was nothing downstairs, there was no point in removing his loin cloth.  
  
He cupped Ludin's hips carefully, and pulled him close so that Ludin could sprinkle kisses over his skin. He knew what humans did. He'd walked in on enough in his time. But he couldn't do that. "What do you want me to do, Ludin?"  
  
"Anything."  
  
He used his hands. He felt every inch of Ludin's skin he could. Watched and felt the shivers dance through his body. "You do get cold."  
  
Ludin said nothing, tracing his hands over scars and clear skin, raising Hakon's own skin up into goosebumps.  
  
Hakon took a gentle finger and rubbed at Ludin's cock. His fiance froze for a moment before gently moving the hand away.

"And here I was hoping you were subtle." It's whispered with shivers.

"So your body is as picky as you are?"  
  
Ludin hums against the skin of Hakon's right hand, held there, firmly away from his cock. He shivers and shivers until Hakon is afraid he's going to start shaking. He picks Ludin up and kisses at his ribs. There is a startled almost laugh from above and Hakon tickles him with his mustache.  
  
The wind picks up though and Hakon pulls him in close. "Tired?"  
  
"Yes." Ludin's voice is barely audible, it had become incense floating up to his ears.  
  
A short while later, they return to camp to find Oddleif and Nid wearing eachother's clothes and Rook somehow decorating the entire foot of the Godstone in flower crowns, sized for him and a Varl.  
  


* * *

Hakon half hates Arberrang. He was under the impression that he should go and introduce himself to the king, but Ludin said nothing to him as he left. Genuine nerves appearing for the first time on the prince since Ridgehorn.  
  
And, of course, once he does, he learns Rugga is floating around. Because the world could end, but there would still be roaches. Although he felt that was an insult to roaches. As it stand, it seems the king has a rather spectacular headache and Ludin looks slightly less cowed. "As you have protected my son, I naturally welcome you and yours into my city. Naturally."  
  
Here he pauses long enough for Hakon to wonder if he should speak up. "As my son's betrothed, I also welcome you and yours."  
  
"I'm sorry, I would have gotten an engagement gift if I'd known." Rook spoke quietly, respecting the privacy of the matter. He introduced himself to the king accordingly, though he grew silent the moment Rugga arrived.  
  
As interesting as watching the two bicker could've been, Hakon was more interested in what Rook would do.  
  
"Rook--" Rugga began.  
  
"I'm only concerned about my own, that includes the Varl if they'll have me."  
  
"Certainly!" The king speaks before Hakon can reply and out of the corner of his eye, he can tell Ludin is relieved. "Have your people come quickly."

His people can't come quickly enough.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A wild POV switch appears!
> 
> I combine the last two parts together, as they fit better.

When the king is in danger, the prince should not be. However, Ludin does not appreciate being kept from the battle. Instead he has a messenger run orders for him, it is the closest he can get. Ludin does not raise his voice. He doesn't have to. That was something he'd learned from his father.  
  
His skin feels too warm where the mender had tattooed him. His tongue hurts, which makes his head hurt in return. The noises of the battle below do not help and he leaves the castle for the walls. The caravan, flying Skogr's mighty red banner, is safely inside. The problem was that Rugga's men refused to give up.  
  
Or no... By the time he reached the wall, the gates were finally shut. A few horseborn nickered nervously and he flicked his gaze to them for the briefest of moments. He comes down from the wall to help his father up to the castle, he was losing strength with every step, but Ludin couldn't help but wonder if he'd always been so light. Behind him, Hakon and Mogr and Rook and his archers followed them. The caravan shook itself together and followed until they could camp out at the gate of the castle and... Ludin would make arrangements for them. They were good people. He would do good by them.  
  
He doubted his father would see that, though. He hadn't even told his father his ideas, and he had quite a few that he would emphasize, if he could work up the courage. There would be time. There would always be time, in his mind. He leaves his father to the menders and meets with Rook and his father's primary advisor. Despite not having been in the battle, he looks almost as bruised as Rook. "Have houses and workshops found. Any small fields or gardens as well. Altogether, where possible."  
  
"Certainly. However--" The advisor closed his mouth at the combined weight of Ludin and Rook's looks. He sighs instead. "There is the cliff side, it would have to be... what is the word? Repaired extensively?"  
  
"The area is damaged? Or is it unruly?" Rook asks calmly.  
  
"Damaged." The advisor replies, he was beginning to sweat and Ludin could feel his headache grow. "There was an earthquake and that part of the town was not always well built. But we've always had order. There might be a few still living there, but... I doubt they bother your people."  
  
Ludin had no doubt of that. "Come then. We'll find Hakon and Canary and round up their people."  
  
The advisor sighed in fashion not unlike a bathing toy. He'd always been ill, Ludin would have him retire soon. "With the king in danger--"  
  
"The prince should be prepared to bite." Ludin finished, he turned on his heel and stepped in time with Rook.  
  


* * *

Hakon stays in Ludin's room. Even if Ludin were a woman. Even if Hakon were a human man. Hakon would stay in Ludin's room. If that were the case, then Ludin was supposed to try for children immediately. Eventually he would ask Rook if he could take some of the children in.  
  
That would have to wait. His body felt too warm, but with people coming and going, he couldn't relax and Hakon wouldn't. "He got away, you know?"  
  
"I do." Ludin concentrated on rewriting the documents he'd written on the journey, this time in much neater, but still tiny, handwriting. They were for the archive, not his father, but he still felt his father's heavy shadow over him. He tried not to hunch.  
  
Hakon loomed over him and he placed his quill down before he was gently picked up and placed on the bed. "You should sleep."  
  
He says nothing, but he does take off his boots and helps Hakon take off his in turn. He wants a bath. His hair is feeling limp. He wants to shave, he never really liked having a beard. He wants his skin to stop hurting, but he carved that particular thought out.  
  
"You--"  
  
"Black is for biting the night and cursing enemies when we die." He speaks and stands. He calls to a servant to have a bath drawn for a Varl. He would rather go to the castle's bath house or its sauna instead, but he felt one of his moods coming. It crowded into his head and whispered that his father would live or that he would die and Ludin was not sure which was more terrifying.  
  
He is not sure he wants be here.  
  


* * *

The water is too warm for him, but his servants erred on the side of caution and assumed that Hakon didn't enjoy shivering. He watches Hakon undress, trailing his eyes over scarred skin. He had a few new bruises. but nothing alarming.  
  
He undresses and folds their clothes so that the servants could wash them. He ties his hair up and slips into the water in front of Hakon. Large hands carefully maneuver him, so that more that just his head is above the water. "How did they do it?"  
  
He hums his reply, rubbing water over his neck and shoulders. "The tattoos."  
  
"A mender does it. My ancestors made the switch after someone was killed by poisoned ink." Of course, if he were going by absolute tradition, then they should still have been using paints instead of tattoos. He keeps that to himself. "Could you help me wash my back?"  
  
Hakon turns him around, rubs his large thumb over Ludin's spine. He groans, or maybe it's a moan, but the knot in his back disappears and Hakon is encouraged. Large hands slide up and down his body and Ludin doesn't want to do this in the water. Wants to wash his hair later. "Bed."  
  
Hakon lifts him easily. Perhaps it's stress, or catharsis instead. He's hard. Not enough to hurt. He isn't that desperate. Hakon doesn't lay him on the bed, but sits himself down and positions Ludin so that they are facing and he has to straddle one of Hakon's large thighs. Then Hakon lifts him and licks, a long slow move from hip to collar. Ludin slaps his hand over his mouth. He is not letting _those_ sorts of noises out.  
  
Hakon doesn't do it again, instead, he sucks on Ludin's hip, his mustache tickling his thigh. "M-move, please."  
  
He obliges, moving Ludin back to his lap and Ludin... well. Whatever happened to subtlety? But at least Hakon seemed pleased with himself.  
  


That night, for a given value thereof, Ludin gets as close to Hakon as he can, wants to feel as much skin as he can. His hair is still wet, but it is clean now and... He wishes that the sun still set, so he wouldn't feel guilty for sleeping. Even if it had, he would still feel guilty. He wonders if it's his father's shadow reaching out to grab him and pull him down. He squeezes his eyes shut and in the morning his father is dead.

The menders could not save him. He can't say he's surprised. For all that he didn't appreciate how much of an enigma Juno was, she and Eyvind at least seemed competent.  
  
The funeral pyre burns bright even with the sun still hanging as it is, smoke trails to the sky, but with each gust of the wind, he felt as though his father was attempting to strangle him from the grave. The citizens of the city file past to pay their respects. The coronation is that afternoon and the wedding that evening. They are low key affairs, with only well wishing allowed. He doesn't have the stomach for a feast and it would be a waste of supplies, given the circumstances.  
  


* * *

The first morning he wakes up as king is... not pleasant. Aside from Hakon's presence. He is drenched in sweat and his hair has become matted from it. He has a servant draw a bath just for him. It will be cold. His skin feels blistered and he waits for a minute or two for it to blister off.  
  
It was dream of what could have been. It could have been Vognir here as king. Hakon is his kendr, but Ludin had no doubt in his mind that Vognir would have stopped the engagement and possibly the alliance as well.  
  
He images a heavy hand reaching from the grave towards him, joined by wrinkled and spotted hands. What had happened? Not even he knew and if Hakon asked him he... wasn't sure what he would say. He had his own suspicions though.  
  
In days or weeks the darkness would arrive and he wonders if Vognir is with it. He images he can see it on the horizon, but Rook's map said otherwise. Could Rook see it, with his better sight? He shivers and sinks lower into his bath.

It still felt as if his skin was on fire. He should have asked Eyvind or Juno about it when he could. Perhaps there was something wrong with them or with him. His father never complained about his, though that meant nothing. A heavy hand cups the back of his head and he flinches. "Bad dream?"  
  
"What about you?"  
  
"Oh certainly." His tone was light. "Dreamt of sheep with human heads and rams with Varl's heads."  
  
Ludin looked at him for a long moment. Had he hit himself in his sleep? "I'm sure if you kept count--"  
  
Hakon cuts him off with a laugh. "Don't worry about dreams."  
  
He doesn't say anything. Hakon helps him comb his hair when he's done, but he can get dressed on his own. He doesn't yet have to face the day so he sits at his desk while Hakon washes his face. "If Vognir had lived, would you have accepted my proposal?"  
  
A heavy pause settles in, punctuated by the sound of his quill scratching away and water dripping into the wash basin. A phantom rope falls gently onto his shoulders. "Don't know."  
  
"Would Vognir have allowed it?" He... thinks he knows the answer to that but Hakon knew Vognir better than he did. Had. He stops writing.  
  
"Is that what's bothering you?" He doesn't want to answer. "If I'd accepted, we'd probably butt heads about it, but I'd stick with you."  
  
"And Vognir?"  
  
"We've butted heads before. We didn't talk for thirty years once, but we made up." Out of the corner of his eye, Ludin watched him dry his face and attend to his mustache. "I don't know if I'd have accepted though. He protected you a bit too much."  
  
"I suppose that's true." He glances at his papers and pushes it to the side, intending to burn it later. A cool, heavy hand cups the back of his head and he relaxes.  
  


* * *

However, throughout the day he is occupied with thoughts of Vognir and what could have been. Would Vognir have him killed? Would Vognir have tied him up and kept him in a cart somewhere out of the way? He hadn't liked Vognir much, Vognir acted opposite to his desires the entire time they'd been in each other's company. Ludin's entire reason for being on the journey had been to... He took a mental deep breath. Although he could safely focus on two or three things at a time, he did need to concentrate on his... new advisors. He should add Rook to that list when the caravan managed to settle in.  
  
His head ached. But even with these thoughts, he managed to pay perfect attention to every single word, every single twitch, of every single person he spoke with that day. He must have seemed like a person who tore the legs off of spiders. Good.  
  
But they would get used to it. They wouldn't have a choice.  
  
He didn't have a choice.  
  
But at least he had Hakon.

 


End file.
